Film Name: 冲锋号 / The Charge
If I were to say this film has a decent plot, few might believe me. Yet I genuinely shed tears while watching it. On one hand, I was moved by history and the spirit embodied by the characters in the film; on the other, I felt sorrow for the present reality—that in contemporary China, barely half a century later, there exists such a vast chasm in faith.
This film is filled with praise for Communist Party members and their ideals, and I see nothing wrong with such idealism. On the contrary, many people today sneer at the mere mention of “red films.” I must ask: which group truly embodies the worst traits of Chinese people—the steadfast believers in red ideals, or their detractors (who may once have been believers themselves)?
I’ve never opposed red films; I only oppose their being made poorly, turned into soulless award-chasing productions (like “Xibaipo”). I’m not a leftist, nor am I a Communist Party member, yet I often seek out these so-called red films that celebrate the spirit of Communists to watch alone. Whether depicting the extraordinary hardships of wartime or the exemplary models of peacetime, I’m invariably deeply moved and inspired. Perhaps precisely because I voluntarily seek out such ideological education, I find it easier to accept the messages conveyed by these films. I don’t dismiss them as hollow propaganda but rather perceive them as genuinely sincere. To reiterate, I see nothing wrong with this voluntary choice.
You might ask if I’ve been brainwashed by the Communist Party. I believe quite the opposite is true. In today’s China, getting brainwashed by the Party is harder than climbing Mount Everest—I could never remain untouched. As part of a generation raised amid the constant clash of diverse cultures and ideologies from around the world, I actually feel more like I’m being brainwashed by the West. So why do I still watch these red films? Because I simply love that idealism. Perhaps in the near future, we will rethink the path of China’s development. But I believe that no matter which path we take, the selfless spirit of sacrifice embodied by heroes of the past, and their courage to pursue their ideals, will never become outdated. They remain eternal, shining beacons.
Because I know I couldn’t do it. I often wonder: if I were facing those thirteen chains over a thousand-foot abyss, with machine guns firing from the opposite bank and flames scorching the chains, would I have the courage to cross that bridge to hell? I also wonder: if I were confronted by a massive avalanche, would I sacrifice myself to save those two children? When I think of these things, and then see the company commander’s frozen body after the avalanche, standing like a statue on the snowy mountain—even though the pose seems so “contrived”—I don’t see it as contrived at all. I see it as a true monument.
I watched this film alone in the theater. I was the only one there. I didn’t feel lonely myself, for stepping out, I still shared the ordinary worldview and emotional needs of everyone else. My loneliness stemmed solely from the film and the spirit it embodied. A film celebrating the noble qualities of Communist Party members, yet I was the only one watching it. Does it too feel lonely? What could have caused such a belief to plummet from fervor to indifference, from universal acclaim to rare appreciation, in such a short span? Perhaps this question deserves our deeper reflection.
“The Charge” doesn’t hold up technically against modern animations, and its details show flaws. Yet its overall narrative—save for the slightly drawn-out segment in Huzi’s hometown courtyard—maintains solid pacing and clear storytelling. Music is perfectly placed to heighten atmosphere, conveying a sincerity rarely found in red-themed animations. So while I was skeptical when news reports quoted viewers saying they were moved by it, I can now say—I, at least, was genuinely moved.
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